


Not Just A Thank You

by convolutedConcussion



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-18 00:34:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7292434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/convolutedConcussion/pseuds/convolutedConcussion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of 1.12, just some quick "holy shit we didn't die" sex with feelings thrown in for texture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Just A Thank You

When all’s said and done, Wynonna’s got a nasty cut above her eyebrow (“Does it make me look cool?” she’d asked from the back of the ambulance) and Dolls has a great shiner started, both of them have bloody knuckles, but they’re alive, and Wave’s alive, and they’re okay.   She’s probably gonna freak out later, but right then she feels good.  They seem to get to the homestead really quickly, and she has to blink a couple times before it really sinks in, and she gives a humorless scoff.  He’s looking at her when she turns, and she wonders briefly if now maybe isn’t the best time.

Thinking precisely _fuck it_ , she goes for it, “I was kinda hoping I could kiss you again?”

He laughs, then, surprisingly hard and kinda freakily genuine, and she’s ready to be offended when he lurches into her, too-hard and too-rough but it’s _good_.  Her fingers dig into his shoulders, through his coat so hard it hurts.

“I just,” she gasps when he pulls away to breathe, “I’ve really wanted to do that for a while.”  Her next, fast peck is less bruising.  “Wanted you to know,” she whispers.  “Not just a thank you kiss.  Thank you, also.”

His answering chuckle shivers through her.  “Good to know,” he teases lightly.

“Come inside,” she urges quietly, eyes mostly closed.  “Stay the night.”

“Okay,” he murmurs into her lips.

Funny, she’d expected more of a fight.  She pulls away, leaps out of the SUV, heels crunching in packed snow.  “This is a _terrible_ time of year for a fancy dress party,” she grumbles, working her way to the door.  “Also, these shoes.”  She stomps while digging for her keys with numb fingers.  Inside the house is only slightly less miserable than outside, but she shrugs out of her coat and hangs it up and allows Dolls to do the same before reeling him in against her.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey,” she parrots, smiling.  “You okay doin’ the walk of shame in a tux tomorrow?”

“I’ve got clothes in the trunk,” he answers, oddly matter-of-fact.

“Of course you do, Boy Scout,” she groans affectionately.  With a quick, “Come on,” and wave, she leads him through the dark house, back to her bedroom.  “Is this a loaner?” she asks quietly, pushing his jacket off his shoulders.

“It is if you’re planning on ripping all the buttons off,” he murmurs back, just short of kissing her.

“Okay, first of all, you watch too much porn,” she snorts.  “That being said, I realize this sounds like a line, but could you unzip me?”

“Turn around,” he orders gently.

With a fleeting look up to his eyes, she obeys, twisting her hair over one shoulder.  The air feels charged when his fingers brush her skin to unhook the dress and start dragging down the zipper, and she feels one hand trail down her spine after it and— _god_ —that’s never felt like that before.  His breath is on her neck before his lips are, and she doesn’t try to repress the soft noise she makes at that.  Her head tilts, baring more of her neck.

He whispers over her skin, fingers just under the shoulders of her dress, “Is this okay?”

She can only nod, mouth dry and heart doing its best to burst right through her ribs, and he slides the insubstantial fabric down her arms, sleeves slipping down until she pulls her hands out, and his fingers twine with hers for just a moment, brushing his closed lips over her shoulder.  The dress clings at her hips and hangs there as his hands glide over her belly.  She gasps when his palms brush her nipples and she arches into the touch, head falling back.  He squeezes her breasts, punctuated with a nip at her neck.

“Fuck,” she whines, pressing back into his chest.  He works back down, first over her ribs, her sides, catching her dress and guiding it down over her hips.  It drops around her ankles.

She twists in his arms and their mouths collide, open, hungry, as his hands skim over her back.  Impatiently, her fingers work at his bowtie, tossing it thoughtlessly when it’s free and attacking his buttons next.  Shirt, then undershirt gone, he walks her back until she hits the bed, surprising a laugh out of her.  Steading herself with a hand on the bedframe, she tugs off her shoes and sits, glancing up at him expectantly.  Still looking up, she scoots back on the mattress, and he climbs in after, filling the space between her knees.  His hips rest against hers, rolling just slightly as he catches her lips again, and heat thrills through her.  It feels like something there, she wills that emotion to come though because God knows she wouldn’t say it— _you’re here, I’m here, we’re alive, I need you too._

Her hand snakes between them, gripping him through his pants.  The way he moans is low, buzzing at her lips.  Rolling in time with her slow strokes, he kisses down her throat and coaxes soft whimpers out of her.

She sucks in a sharp breath when his teeth graze her nipple, tugging the hard bud until it’s _unbearable_ but it’s _awesome_ and she’s pretty sure she said that last bit out loud on the tail end of a mewl.

It’s too much, soon, and she drags him up to kiss him again.  “Condoms, nightstand,” she whispers before dropping back and watching him push to his feet.  She yanks off her panties as he digs, and it does _way_ more for her than she’d expected when he rips open the wrapper with his teeth, one hand working deftly at his button.

Maybe it’s just a _Dolls_ thing, because she’s also never been _quite_ this turned on by the way someone rolled on a condom.  A night of firsts, it seems.  She doesn’t get much time to consider it further because he’s on top of her again and it’s skin on skin on skin everywhere and she’s hot and wet and throbbing and _needs him_ and she must say _that_ too, because he stops very briefly, eyes locked on hers as the head of his cock presses into her.

She whines, pulling him closer, as his hips rock slowly.  Her legs wrap around him, urging him closer and faster, nails digging into his back.  Her eyes fall closed, every thrust drawing a cry from her, a moan from him.  His teeth are at her neck again, and she’s close, she’s actually embarrassingly close, but it’s too _good_.

Her climax crashes into her, knocks the breath out of her, leaves her gasping and muffling her loud moans into his shoulder.  His hips buck faster and against every jolt of pleasure she opens her eyes, tightening her hold on him and it’s almost too much and she can’t stop whispering, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

Their eyes are locked right up until the moment when he cums, his own squeezing shut as he cries out, losing his rhythm and slowing jerkily, stopping after what feels like a long time.  She holds him there for a moment longer, teasing long, slow kisses out of him until he groans and rolls off of her.  They lay side-by-side until their hard breathing slows, only their shoulders are touching, tacky with rapidly-cooling sweat.  When he stands, she yawns and wriggles her way into the center of the bed and just manages to yank the blanket out from under her before her shaking muscles go out on her and she flops against the pillow.  She’s already half-asleep when he climbs back in next to her, and she’s too content to do anything but let herself be manipulated into position against him.

She doesn’t sleep, though, not immediately.  She’s blissed out and _damn tired_ but she fights it because he’s tracing her spine with his fingertips and it’s good enough to stay awake for.

“Get some rest, Earp,” he orders, pecking her forehead just above her cut.  She hisses, and he does it again, gentler, like an apology.

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure, this started out as something _completely_ different but apparently I had some feelings I needed to express???
> 
> Thanks for reading! I have a [Tumblr](http://johnisntevendead.tumblr.com) where I whine a lot about Wynonna Earp and post things sometimes not about Wynonna Earp, too.


End file.
